


damage control for the blight affected party

by cartographicalspine



Series: The Hearthkeeper [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Arguing, Conflict Resolution, Conflict of Interests, Gen, Multiple Origins, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartographicalspine/pseuds/cartographicalspine
Summary: The aftermath of the nightmarish events of the attack on their camp leaves the Wardens and their companions divided in opinion and loyalty, and Zevran makes his choice before it is presented to him.It's mostly Zevran's internal snark, honestly.





	damage control for the blight affected party

Tamlen wouldn’t look up when Sten spoke to him, but he hadn’t moved much since that night, as far as Zevran could tell. Neither did Mahariel let him wander far; they had been nearly inseparable from the moment that death released him and Surana, holding each other like they intended to never let go. He knew that feeling, the way that he and Rinna and Taliesen had come together in the dark, until the harsh light of day exposed the gore and blood of their lives.

But the others allowed them to remain children, so they would cling to whispers and secrets in each other’s ears when they could, and their beating hearts filled the rest of the silence for them. They let no one else as close for days, and held hands even longer than that.

Until now.

Few things could rattle Zevran, fewer could turn him from his current traveling companions. What judge was he to their actions, after all that he had done in his life? Which words could he use against them that would not pierce him as well? He could not complain about the outcome of their journey so far, and when he thought they could use a bit of guidance...well, Aeducan’s heart could be turned as she turned his, amidst words and kisses and caresses. Who could say they were all that terrible an influence to each other? It was worth Wynne’s disapproving look and...oh, that wasn’t for either of them.

Ah, yes. The blood magic. No one had flounced off in a disgusted rage so far, but whether that was to see Surana’s fate through, one way or another, or simply because the darkspawn raids had been more frequent since that night, Zevran could not tell. But they were itching for it. Would Wynne return to the Circle, with or without her once-apprentice Amell? Leliana’s faith had so far stood the test since she held the Wardens dearly in her heart, from Cousland to Tabris, but in the quiet of camp, she sometimes grew pensive and aloof. And whatever had soured the bond between Surana and Morrigan, it seemed she had resolved herself to remain anyway, possibly out of spite and contrarianism.

But Zevran couldn’t fault Surana his ruthlessness and depravity. It was no secret that Zevran had a soft spot for Mahariel, who reminded him somewhat of himself, or perhaps, who he could have been in another life. And he was a child still...both of the boys, Mahariel and Tamlen alike. Foolish, impulsive children with more curiosity than sense, but they had not deserved the hand that fate dealt them, and so Surana had moved something in Zevran with what he had done to save them.

Plus, no one had been swallowed whole by a horde of demons yet, so Zevran thought they were doing alright so far.

Sten, on the other hand, had guarded a surly silence regarding the events of the past couple of weeks. Once they’d reached the next mountain pass, he turned on Aeducan over the decisions that had brought them to this point.

“He should not have lived,” he said. “You know this as well as I. Neither of them should have.”

“What are you saying, Sten?” Aeducan muttered in that voice that said she was rolling her eyes only because she wasn’t allowed to roll anyone’s head yet. “Tell him to his face, then. Both, to save time. Tell Mahariel.”

“You think I won’t. You insult me with your sentimentality.”

“Sentimentality. What’s sentimental about not having lost a single one of my people to the Blight?”

“You’re right,” he conceded, and for a moment Zevran thought his ire had passed. “It is not sentimentality but foolishness that led you to depend on something you cannot control to spare their lives.”

“You mean myself, and my magic.” Surana spoke then, looking half-dead as he leaned on his staff. “I’m fine, Zevran.”

Zevran stepped back and raised his hands placatingly, reminding himself that these Fereldans had their own definition of the word. Fair enough, he was still on his feet and definitely not swaying at all.

Sten’s lip curled in disgust. “I have not forgotten your part in this, beast.”

“I’m touched,” Surana said in a voice that was not touched at all. “Now leave the children alone, Sten.”

It was impressive how much of a slap to the face he had made that sentence sound, considering Sten's recruitment. Zevran felt that these Wardens had been wasted on battle and darkspawn; they were obviously made for diplomacy.

“Sten, enough.” Their illustrious leader had put on her best ‘I can get along with people, no, really’ smile, and Zevran knew it would break out in a skirmish soon, if they were lucky. If they weren’t… “No one has died of blood magic, blight magic, or demons yet. We’re doing fine.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened yet—”

“We’ll deal with it. We always have.”

Sten growled. “I’ve had enough of this. Are you a _fool?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Aeducan hissed with the enthusiastic warning of a serpent. “I am a _lunatic._ So, if you’re not shutting up, then draw your damned, sodding, Blight-pickled sword so I can ram—”

She stopped, her pale gaze sweeping in an arc over the companions they had gathered, who now stood rather obviously apart from the Wardens. And Zevran. Oh, had he missed a memo somewhere? Well, this was awkward.

Tabris gave them a molten bronze glower, but Cousland didn’t bother giving them his notice at all in favor of adjusting his bow’s string. Brosca smiled her honey-and-poison smile, ever the optimist. Amell just shook her head at Wynne in disappointment, while Surana looked positively thrilled at the senior mage’s disapproval. Zevran wasn’t exaggerating; if he really tried, that could almost have been a smile.

Mahariel, on the other hand, was devastated and couldn’t look at anyone at all.

Aeducan stared hard at the non-Wardens, like she was trying to read into their expressions and also trying to kill them all with her eyes so she wouldn’t have to bother. “So, this is where we stand?”

“We’re not...against you,” Leliana said slowly, looking at Alistair; they among the company traveling with them appeared the most conflicted about the whole situation. “We just think that we need to talk. About things.”

“Fine,” Aeducan said evenly, and then, because she was likely trying to make Zevran grey while still young, she nodded at Sten with a barely polite gesture. She really made it difficult to be laid back and casual about foolish things like _concern for her_ and _not wanting her to get hurt._ And maybe some _I don't really want to end up fighting our disillusioned companions if she loses,_ for flavor and excitement. “We’ll talk. All the words your heart desires. But...we finish _this_ talk first.”

“It’s time to settle this,” Sten nodded, and finally, to Zevran's growing and resigned despair, they drew their swords.


End file.
